


Middle School (a story written by 6th graders who had no idea what they were talking about)

by snapephobic



Category: middle school - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Middle School, F/M, Middle School, Original Fiction, please remember we wrote this in 6th grade, that was like 3 years ago okay we've moved on from then
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:29:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25236961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapephobic/pseuds/snapephobic
Summary: Before the actual summary, I just want to say that this story is horrible, and we've both come a long way since this. (it was written in 6th grade and we're now freshmans)------------------------------------------------Mary Moore-Schultz is excited to start middle school, but will drama ruin her time there?
Relationships: Mary Moore-Schultz/Kain Middleton-Jones, Mary Moore-Schultz/Spencer Litman, Wren McCoy/Spencer Litman





	Middle School (a story written by 6th graders who had no idea what they were talking about)

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S SO DRAMATIC I'M SORRY

Mary Moore-Schultz was awoken to pale pink florescent light coming in through her translucent curtains, and the chirping of the swallowtails. A gentle breeze came through the cracked window, giving Mary pleasant chills. Her blankets were soft and warm, and her dark sienna nightgown with the white satin bows pressed against her hot skin, cooling her back. It would have been the perfect morning.

If only, if only, if only. If only middle school didn’t start tomorrow, if only Mary wasn’t fighting with Wren McCoy, her very best friend in the entire world. And if only her mother actually cared about her.

Miss Moore had divorced her husband two and a half years ago. He had been caught stealing from her bank account, and did a lot of community service. But he was already remarried and had an eighteen month old, Lexie.

Miss Moore was distant. Over the course of the two and a half years, she slowly stopped doing Friday night movies with Mary, stopped asking her how school was going, and Mary could disappear into her room for hours and her mother would never notice. She slowly became angry and Mary slowly became socially awkward with nobody to talk with, except Wren, but now even she was gone.

For Mary, it was very hard. Her dad never invited her over, and on his weekends, he hardly even talked to her. He was almost as distant as her mother. He was wrapped up with Lexie, and Linda, her stepmom.

She missed her mother, and she hated Linda, and she wished life had a reset button. All of this she poured out to Wren, and Wren would never even mind they hardly ever talked about her problems. But now, Wren was gone.

The fight had been over a week ago, at the park. Wren was on the swings, talking to a boy Mary had never seen. She was going to meet Wren and so she hurried over to her and the boy.  
The boy had brown, curly hair, deep blue eyes and pure white teeth. He was kind of cute.

“Hey, Wren! And hi. . .” Mary said, glancing at the boy.

He said, “Spencer Litman. I’m going to your school this year, and I moved here from Alaska.”

Mary had always loved Alaska. The mountains, the cold, the cute parkas. She searched her brain for the right words. It took a good ten seconds of awkwardly staring at each other while Mary tried to find words that measured up to beautiful Alaska. “Wow, you did? I’ve always wanted to live there. What’s it like?” Mary sat down in the swing next to Spencer.

Spencer opened his mouth, but Wren cut in with, “He said it’s freezing and sometimes it’s really early when the sun sets.”

Mary said, turning her eyes from Wren to Spencer quickly, “Did you see any mountains? I love mountains in Alaska.”

Spencer laughed. “Yeah, I-”

“He saw a few. They were big and grey.” Wren said flatly. Her green eyes held Mary in an intensive stare. Spencer sat awkwardly, turning his glance from Mary to Wren, looking slightly scared.

Mary directed her next question at Wren, “Oh, he did?”

Spencer said, “Yeah, I like to draw them. I really like art.”

Then, Wren had stormed off without a word and Mary didn’t follow her. Spencer stayed in his awkward position.

Mary still didn’t know what had made Wren so angry, and Spencer didn’t either. The two discovered they both love to paint and sing. They had gone to the park the following day, after the fight, and talked and got to know each other.

Spencer was also coming over to sketch a nearby stream with Mary after lunch. Mary had gotten a bit of a crush on him, but since she didn’t know him very well, she decided to ask him out later. Maybe in a week or so. But then again, he would probably get a crush on another girl when school started. Mary decided to ask him out at the stream, but how?

She got out of bed and peeked into her mother’s room. Out at work early again, even though it was six thirty on Sunday morning. But there was a plus, because Mary could watch whatever she wanted on TV. Usually, her mother ruled that.

But not this morning! Mary excitedly grabbed the remote and switched the channels at the speed of light, trying to find a show she liked. Finally, she found an old episode of some old Disney show, and watched for about ten minutes, because by then, the plot had fallen flat and the characters were running out of funny things to do and say.

She fumbled around her legs for the remote and switched the channel to Think TV. A Bob Ross rerun from about fifteen years ago was playing. Mary felt her shoulders relax, and she was greatly calmed until Bob Ross said “happy little trees” for the millionth time.

Everytime he said that, she cracked up. And his afro popped out, all brown and hilarious, like the beginning of his “happy little trees.” Mary’s stomach grew angry and loud, making gurgling noises, demanding this and that.

Mary gave in and walked to the kitchen for something to eat. The fridge was splattered with magnets, all of Mary and her dad and her mom. Of course, put there by Mary.  
She opened the fridge door and saw that it consisted of a leftover salad in the clear takeout box, a bag of lettuce, four or five packets of ranch dressing, tortillas, and a half empty milk jug. She was not surprised. Often the fridge looked like this. Often Mary had to get very creative with any meal. She had been doing this for almost two years, about eight months after the divorce.

She was a skinny thing, maybe she gained ten pounds in the past three years. If she reminded her mom for lunch money and bought lunch at school, she would get two glasses of milk, two sandwiches, two of everything. Often, her mom forgot to eat lunch.

Her mother would often power-work through lunch and earn those extra hours, just to earn maybe ten dollars extra. It wasn’t much extra money; but it was money.

Mary grabbed the lettuce and closed the refrigerator door. There were some apples and a shrink wrapped watermelon slice from Aunt Lillian's barbeque a few days before on the hutch, so Mary grabbed those and chopped them up, put some of the lettuce into a small bowl, and dumped a little of the sliced fruit in  
to the bowl. She took her fork and tossed the salad a bit.

Then she sat down in front of the television again and by this time, a new knitting show was on. The lady wound her needles through the thick cloth and slowly made a sweater. The show lasted over an hour.

Mary looked at the clock; nine o'clock in the morning. She had been up for almost three hours.

Mary wanted to do something productive, so she walked into her room and looked around the room for her cell.

She dialed Spencer’s number. She was going to ask him out, and then maybe call Wren to say sorry for whatever she did.

“Yello, this is Spencer Litman.” Mary’s stomach tightened. She hesitated, and almost put the phone down, but she didn’t.

“Hey, Spence. It’s Mary, don’t you have caller ID?” Mary said.

“Yeah, I just forgot to check. What is it? I’m not supposed to meet you until one o’clock.”

“Um. . .” Mary said, “Oh, yeah, I was going to ask you. . .um. . .if you could come at eleven. After we finish our sketches, we could head over to Seven Eleven and get some sodas and frozen dinners and head back to my place to eat.” Spencer’s end was quiet. For a few seconds, Mary almost said, “Will you be my boyfriend?” But before she could, Spencer answered.

“Coolio. And can I ask you a question?” His voice was higher than usual.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Mary said. Her palms were sweating, and she felt woozy. She had to keep herself from panting. Her head came up with so many bad scenarios. She didn’t know what to say.

Spencer didn’t seem to notice her anxiety attack. “Could you maybe--and you don’t have to--be my girlfriend?” Mary almost fell unconscious.

“Uh, I was going to talk to you about that. Do you think we should sketch each other or the--”

“I asked you a question.” Spencer’s voice was low and annoyed. Mary’s palms began to sweat. “Can you answer it?” His voice cracked and he sounded nervous.

“No, sorry. Wren seems to like you, though. I think that’s why she got so mad. Maybe she thought we were flirting or something.” Mary bit her lip and sat down. She felt a little less nervous, avoiding the question a little, directing the conversation back to Wren.

“Uh, yeah, I think you’re right. Wren is kind of cute. I might ask her out. Anyway, see you at eleven. . .in forty-five minutes.”  
Mary’s stomach tightened again. Less than an hour to get ready? She would have to make this apology call speedy. She said goodbye to Spencer and began to dial Wren’s number.

But then she began to think. What if she was wrong about the fight, and Wren accused her of being jealous and the fight got even worse? She began to set the phone down. But what if she was right?

What if she said to Wren, “Hey, about Spence. You can have him. Sorry for hogging and flirting the other day. Friends?” Yes.

She dialed Wren’s number. Wren picked up on the sixth ring. “Hello, McCoy residence, Wren speaking.”

“Um, Wren, it’s Mary. Hi. Uh, if you’re mad about me and Spencer, I don’t like him. You can date him if you want. He said you’re kind of cute and he might ask you out. I can ask him out for you. If, uh, maybe if you want. Um. Okay?” Mary said it all quickly.

Wren’s line was silent.

Finally, she spoke.  
“Uh, yeah, okay! Yeah, ask him out for me. Sorry I was so jealous. Yeah, friends?”

Mary laughed and said yes, then hung up and began to contemplate what to wear. She finally landed on some cute cutoffs and a slouchy sweater with pink polka dots. After she showered, she pulled on her outfit and styled her blonde hair into a headband-braid combination. She stole a lipstick from her mother’s makeup bag and whipped it around her lips.  
After touching up the makeup, she stepped out of her house and slipped the key necklace around her neck, and hid it under her shirt. She sent a quick text to her mom that she was going out, and hopped on her bike.

She flew through the neighborhood on the bright neon blue two-wheeler. She saw the cookie-cutter blue siding two stories, like every other suburb of New York City. Mary had had an aunt in the city. But she was killed in 9/11, just a few years before she was born.

The wind whipped her hair and blew her skin. The air was cool, and there were no clouds in sight. If only school wasn’t there to ruin it all. Spencer was at the brook a few miles away.  
Mid City Pond was one of the only truly untouched by human places anywhere near the city.  
There were real lily pads, real green ones with sad little pink-white flowers, and you could see little black dots darting across the water, tickling your toes. It was a real sight to see, with the midsummer sun flowing across the water and rocks, making the algae shine.  
It was a very romantic place. So many love stories began at that pond. First kisses, people beginning to go steady. Mary’s own mother and father had their first kiss there.

As Mary’s mom had said, she and her crush, Mary’s dad, had been flirting for weeks. Passing notes in class. Mary’s mom caught her soon-to-be father doodling her name in his notebooks. It was very obvious they liked each other, but both were shy and not ready to make the first move.

One day at school, her father said he’d be at the pond at two o’clock that night. So her mom snuck out, and she saw her soon-to-be husband. They were talking for a minute, and Mary’s mom just kissed him out of nowhere. Maybe Mary and her crush would have their first kiss there.

But Mary already gave him to Wren. But she could still like him, right? She could still doodle his name in her notebook, just be careful, so Wren doesn’t see it. But that would be going behind her back, lying, and keeping secrets. And that would start another fight.

Mary was snapped back into reality with a kick. The stream was just a few feet away! Mary swerved out of the way just in time. But then her bike got caught on a stone, and Mary flew off the bicycle. She landed on the grass with a thud, and was lucky that Spence wasn’t there to see her almost kill herself.  
But then she heard a single high-pitched giggle. Mary spit out the grass in her mouth and turned around. She saw Wren with her blue bicycle, biting her lip and having trouble not laughing. What was she doing here?

“Oh, uh, hi, Wren.”

“Hey, you on a suicide mission?” Wren giggled. She tossed her bike to the side and sat down next to Mary. “Or are you blind?” Wren’s cheeks were red and her brows were almost touching.  
“I wasn’t paying attention.” Mary said. “And what are you doing here?” Mary shifted off the tiny rock she was sitting on and made her face look mean.

Wren shifted too. “I-I thought--” Mary stood up, suddenly screaming.

“Well, you thought wrong! Spencer and I are spending the afternoon together. Suck it up! God, Wren! I thought we were over these pity parties!” Mary clenched her fists. She stepped closer to Wren, and screeched, “Go away!” Wren stood up.

Wren’s face turned red. A tiny purple vein popped out of her forehead. “Oh, yeah? I thought you didn’t like Spencer! I’m asking him out, right now!” She thrusted her hand to the left and pointed. Mary looked, and there was Spencer, sitting on his bike in disbelief. He looked down and sniffed.

Mary cupped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, shrinking back. Her face and ears burned. Spencer looked at her, his hands shaking. He threw his bike on the ground and looked at Mary and Wren, back and forth. He stepped towards Wren, and then stepped back. A tear slid down his face.

“N-no, I-I. . .” Spencer stuttered. “No, Wren, I’m sorry.” Wren’s face turned red. She turned to Mary, steaming.

“Well, look at that! Thanks a lot, Mary!” she screeched. She grabbed Mary’s wrist, and pulled her close. “Liar,” she whispered, “I’ll get you for this.” Then she flung Mary’s wrist away from her and hopped on her bike and rode away as fast as she could.

Mary looked at the red ring around her left wrist and rubbed it. It felt like rug-burn. She and Spencer exchanged looks. Spencer inched over to her and whispered, “I think you might’ve made her a bit angry.”

Mary yelled, “You think?” and then sighed. She continued rubbing her wrist. Her fingernails pushed into the red spot. “Spence, I-I. . .I don’t know what to do.” A tear slid down her cheek.

She sniffed and wiped it away. Spencer clutched her arms.

“It’s fine, okay? We’ll be fine.” he let his arms slide down her hands and he gripped them tightly. He leaned in and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. Mary blushed and smiled. But her smile quickly faded.

“I don’t know, Spencer. It doesn’t seem possible. . .” Her voice cracked and trailed off. She pulled her hands from his grasp and sat down on a large river rock. Spencer gazed at her, his blue eyes shining. He zipped his jacket up to his chin. He sat down on the rock next to her and pulled the knapsack hanging from his shoulder off. He reached inside and pulled out a sketchbook and colored pencils. He held them out to her.

Mary took them and began to sketch. Her pencil flew across the page. She sketched the shining waters, the trees and rocks, and then she thought of Spencer. She drew a boy’s figure hurling rocks into the brook. She drew a hood hiding his hair, but some puffed out rebelliously. It took her a long while to draw all this.  
Spencer fixed his eyes on her. Mary pretended not to notice him. It was hard not to blush or giggle, but she managed not to. She grabbed a colored pencil, made the last few strokes, and then held the drawing up to Spencer. His jaw dropped and he snatched the book. He was silent for a long time.

“Wow, I didn’t know--I didn’t see--well, I--could you. . .wow.” His words came out short and quiet. “Wow.” he said again, louder. Mary looked down and giggled. But then all those thoughts came flooding back.

Mary stood up and found her bike. Spencer’s mouth was still gaping open when she pushed off and pedaled as hard as she could.  
The wind whipped at her locks and she pedaled faster. She didn’t think about anybody but herself. She couldn’t afford to get in more fights. She needed a woman to talk to, a girl she could spill out her secrets to--she needed her mom.

Mary jumped off her bike as soon as she was in her own yard. She hurried inside and locked the door. She dialed her mom’s number as fast as she could. Her mother picked up on the final ring. “Yes, Miss Moore speaking?”

“Mom! Come home! I. . .don’t feel good.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either.  
“Oh. . .um, maybe I can use some of my leave. Hold on for a minute.” Mary’s stomach tightened. She carried her cell to the bathroom and puked. She really didn’t feel very good. “Okay, hon, I’ll be there soon. You okay for a half hour or so?” Mary said yes and hung up.

Maybe her mother did care about her.

Mary felt more coming up her throat, but she swallowed hard. She didn’t want to worry her mother too much. But even more came up, and Mary let it fall into the toilet water. She flushed and walked out, setting her cell on the TV stand.

She slipped off her shoes and slid her headband out of her hair. She sighed and collapsed onto the couch. She grabbed the remote and switched on the television. She found Nick and watched some Nicky, Ricky, Dicky and Dawn until her mother walked through the door.

“Hey, hon, I had a week of paid leave left, so I took the final six hours of my day off. Hmm. . .no fever,” she said, kissing her daughter’s forehead. “Just feeling icky?”  
It was like her mother thought she was eight again. But, still, any attention was good attention. “Yeah, I guess.” Mary switched the TV off. Her mother smiled and kissed her hair.  
“I know middle school is stressful, honey. Just tough through it.” she whispered. Miss Moore stood up and smiled again. She grabbed Mary’s cell off the TV stand. She unlocked it and deleted Wren’s number. “There. I think you two just need some time apart.”

“Yeah, I think the stress got to me and that’s why I threw up.” Mary said. A huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her mother handed her the cell phone. Mary shyly took it and forced a smile. She clicked Spencer’s contact. She deleted it, too. “I need some time apart from him, too.” she whispered.

“I’ll make you some ramen noodles. Sound good?”

Mary nodded. She turned on the television and found American Pickers. She and her dad used to watch it for hours, shouting bidding prices at the TV, and laughing and shouting when their price was picked. It was a surprisingly uproaring show. Mary changed the channel to Beachfront Bargain Hunt. A newlywed couple with twin girls on the way was trying to find a three bedroom under eight hundred thousand dollars.

Mary giggled. They were close to LA. These people were unbelievably idiotic. An oceanfront three bedroom in LA for under eight hundred thousand dollars? Even Mary, who lived across the country, knew that was absolutely insane.

The couple finally found a fixer-upper that had three bedrooms and was six hundred thousand and thirty nine dollars. Mary was eating her noodles when her phone started playing a song:

“I’m friends with the monster that’s under my bed...  
Get along with the voices inside of my head…”

Mary turned the ringtone off and frowned. It was a text from her father. He wanted her to come over. “Mom. . .Dad wants me over!”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell him no, you have school tomorrow.”

Mary sent the text and smiled.


End file.
